


Like Ten Pin Bowling

by Ambereen



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Hurt Liam, Is this a problem?, M/M, OT5, Water fights gone wrong, i like angst, larry stylinson - Freeform, silly little thing, ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 17:25:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15029531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambereen/pseuds/Ambereen
Summary: Liam was quiet.Now that, in and of itself, wasn't unusual. Liam had moments where he preferred to keep to himself and leave the happy chattering to his band mates, and those moments were some of Zayn's favorites. He could simply sit with him, on the bus, in a car, in a booth at a restaurant, during an interview, and let their shoulders touch and he would feel more understood that he felt most days.But something was bothering him. There was something wrong.





	Like Ten Pin Bowling

**Author's Note:**

> Also an old one. This is becoming a thing, now. Be kind! <3
> 
> Inspired by the fall at the Staples Center. You know the one. My head hurts every time I see it.

Liam was quiet. 

Now that, in and of itself, wasn't unusual. Liam had moments where he preferred to keep to himself and leave the happy chattering to his band mates, and those moments were some of Zayn's favorites. He could simply sit with him, on the bus, in a car, in a booth at a restaurant, during an interview, and let their shoulders touch and he would feel more _understood_ that he felt most days. 

Zayn was private. He was calm and calculated and he thought before he spoke, which was a trait sorely lacking in their band. But in public he adopted the Bradford bad-boy persona that he bore with a tight-lipped grace those closest to him could only marvel at, and it wore him down. Constantly. With Liam, in those quiet moments, he didn't have to be anything other than what he was, and he cherished that more than the younger boy could know. 

But even though they were all piled together in the car, and Zayn had taken up the coveted spot near the door with Liam at his side, it wasn't the same. They were closer than they normally were, connected from shoulder to hip by necessity, and from thigh to knee by choice, but Zayn didn't feel comforted, he felt... jittery. He felt like he needed a cigarette, but he'd had one just before climbing into the car, there was no way his body was craving another. 

But as his fingers drummed out a staccato beat on the door, he couldn't help but notice how off he felt. There was something wrong, he could feel it, but as his eyes roamed the back of their car, he couldn't find a single thing that would concern him. Louis and Harry were wrapped in each other, safe in the security of the tinted windows and the black night outside their door. Niall was happily talking to their driver, his voice roughened by the crisps he would occasionally pop into his mouth. 

And Liam was next to him, safe and sound, as he should always be. So what was bothering him? 

“Li?” He mumbled, eyes peering through the window to watch as buildings and streetlights blurred together. They'd gotten lucky to have a hotel to stay the night in, and Zayn was aching for the feel of endless sheets against his skin rather than the press of three walls and a low bunk ceiling. But he'd be enjoying the thought of it more if he could figure out what was bothering him. 

When Liam didn't answer, he turned his head, hand already raised to tap twice on Liam's thigh before he saw that his eyes were closed. Too late to stop the downward arch of his arm, Zayn turned the taps into a slight caress, and smiled apologetically when Liam's eyes fluttered open. 

“Sorry.” It was a quiet whisper, Zayn's head tucked against the headrest and Liam's neck. His breath was hot, and it made Liam shiver. “Didn't mean to wake you.” 

“Wasn't sleepin' Z.” Liam frowned, his eyes crinkled at the edges as a streetlight caught his face the right way through the window. “We there yet?” 

“Nah.” Zayn wasn't sure why he was whispering. Harry and Louis were most definitely still awake, and Niall was making enough noise to wake any dead people that might be sharing their car with them, but Zayn couldn't bring himself to talk over a slight murmur. Maybe it was because of how close they were. How intimate. Maybe Zayn simply didn't feel like sharing this moment with anyone else, though there was nothing particularly special about it. 

He was so lost in his own thoughts, he only came back to reality when Liam's hand brushed against his, which had been laying against the younger boy's thigh for the past minute. But when Zayn looked back up into his eyes, they were starting to narrow in concern, and he automatically upped his previous idea of a minute to more than five. Liam only started to look like a concerned parent when the five minute marker passed. “Sorry?” 

“I asked if somethin' was wrong?” Liam phrased it like a question, a light one, but Zayn knew him better than that by now. It wasn't a question, it was a step away from an interrogation and if Zayn zoned out on him again, it would turn into an _investigation_ that wouldn't be closed until Liam was satisfied that nothing was going on and Zayn wasn't hiding anything from him. 

“Nothing.” Zayn smiled at him, fondly, and just pulled his hand from his thigh to drape it over the back of the seat, fingertips brushing the top of Liam's shoulder before he brought them to the back of his head, threading through the short, slightly damp hair. “Just need a smoke, is all.” 

Liam made a noise in the back of his throat that might have been an annoyed huff, but his eyes were heavy lidded from the fingertips gently scratching at his scalp, and Zayn felt his smile widen a little even as he pulled him a little closer. 

“You should try and get some rest before we get to the hotel. I'll wake you.” 

Liam, of course, ignored him. But he couldn't fight off the urge to lean into his touch, and Zayn smiled indulgently when his head finally thumped lightly against his shoulder. “Those things'll kill you.” It was slightly slurred, his eyes losing the battle to close, and Zayn brushed a kiss into his hair that was too soft to be felt, and too quick to be noticed. 

“I know. Rest, Liam.” 

*

Liam wasn't tired. 

But he didn't have the heart to tell Zayn that, and for a little while he allowed himself the freedom to lay against the older boy and close his eyes. His head was pounding, his vision blurry ever since the fall he'd taken up on stage. He had known better than to get roped into Louis' shenanigans, he always knew better, but sometimes he was really tired of being the responsible one. 

Daddy Direction. The nickname he'd thought was hilarious until it became more like a noose around his neck than a comfortable moniker like Hazza or Tommo. He was restricted by it, chained. Fans thought it was funny, and maybe to them it still was. But to him it was a weight on his shoulders he didn't care to have. 

They were all boys playing as adults, and sometimes Liam wanted nothing more than to let loose and make some mistakes with them. Break things, run wild. He had a few noteworthy moments with Louis, who noticed far more than anyone tended to give him credit for, but anything truly fun was off limits. Management always around the corner, or a phone call away. _What would happen to your reputation_ , they would (had already said, too many times to count) say to him, _why would Daddy Direction behave that way_? 

He wanted to scream. That wasn't his name. That wasn't who he was. Yes, he was kind. Yes, he was thoughtful. And yes, he sometimes took the blame for the boys when things got broken or someone did something, or went somewhere, they weren't supposed to. But he wasn't one dimensional. Management and the press tried so hard to mold them into the tried and true boy band formula, but the problem was none of them were entirely like their chosen persona, and the bleed through could be obvious at times. 

So he'd let Louis talk him into messing around on stage. He'd let him talk him into letting loose and having fun and saying fuck all to the consequences. And it had been _brilliant_. Liam had never felt better, and the smile on his face had been infectious. Water was thrown, fire extinguishers were used inappropriately, and Liam had wasted a box of Lucky Charms that had been their backstage stack for days. But none of that mattered at the time because for a few glorious moments Daddy Direction hadn't existed. 

The fall had knocked some of that 'Daddy Direction' sense back into him. 

He'd seen Louis trying to clean up, had seen the towel off to the side, but he hadn't registered the slick ramp until his feet were already out from under him and his head was hitting the ground with enough force to darken his vision for a moment and pull a groan from his lips. 

Louis hadn't noticed, too busy laughing and upending another water bottle on him, and Liam was thankful for it. The water was room temperature, and he was already too wet for it to matter, but it gave him the few moments he needed to will the stadium to stop spinning. To pretend nothing was wrong when he pulled his arm from in front of his eyes and found Louis grinning like the Cheshire cat down at him. 

If it had been Zayn, he wouldn't have gotten away with it. And for those few seconds on the stage, he was insanely grateful. 

“You all right, mate?” 

“M'fine.” Liam rolled his eyes, and ignored the sharp bite of dizzying nausea. “Last time I ever let you talk me into this.” 

Louis' laugh made his head pound. “Yeah, you're fine. Up you go, Payne. Your adoring audience awaits the return of their knight in shining armor.” 

“Fuck off.” It was a snort, but he wasn't wrong. He could hear the screams of the girls worried for him, and he just sat up, two thumbs in the air to signify that he was all right, before he could think about just simply lying there forever. They still had a song to get through, and in the words of so many artists before him, the show simply had to go on. 

The bright lights and the music had done a number on him, and by the time they'd piled into the car, his head was pounding and he could barely keep his eyes open because even the light from the streetlights outside the car made it worse. He felt like he had the worst migraine on the planet, but when Zayn had reached out for him, Liam simply couldn't ignore him. 

Not even when they were in the x-factor could Liam ignore Zayn Malik. He was a bright star wrapped up in a shroud of privacy and quiet words. People mistook it for a lot of things, most recently mysteriousness, aloofness, and cockiness (which Liam would never understand, but that was the role Zayn had been cast to play) but it wasn't any of that, and though Liam had tried to explain it a million times, in over a hundred ways, he'd only found one way to truly explain it, and in his opinion it didn't do Zayn nearly enough justice. 

Harry and Louis were _out all night, bar scene, club hopping, bowling drunk on Christmas eve._ Niall was _huge thanksgiving dinners, drinks at the pub, stringing lights on random city trees, annoying Christmas carols_. Liam and Zayn, though they certainly enjoyed all of the above, were more _quiet homemade dinners, drinks with friends, game nights, roaring fires, Christmas movies at home_.

But that didn't mean they didn't enjoy having fun, or the crazy atmosphere the other boys brought into the mix. They loved it. If they didn't they wouldn't be in the band, and they certainly wouldn't be as close as they were. But they were all their own people, and although Harry and Louis and Niall were brilliant best friends, Zayn had always been the one Liam couldn't look away from. 

He'd caught his attention and held it, and it had been an amazing opportunity to watch him grow up, to become more confident in himself and his voice. Liam would have been satisfied to simply be a fan, to sit on the sidelines and watch him rise to greatness, but fate or God or whoever was looking out for him had deemed it appropriate to allow him to walk alongside him, to share in all his triumphs and failures, and Liam had sworn a long time ago, into a pillow wet with tears and fears of what would become of them with the x-factor over, that as long as Zayn needed him, he'd be there. 

So even with his head pounding and his eyes burning from the lights that weren't even bright enough to read by, when Zayn had sought out his attention, Liam had given it to him. And when Zayn had drawn him close and offered him a shoulder to lean on, Liam had nuzzled his head into the curve of his neck and closed his eyes and did his best to ignore the way his ears were ringing. 

It wasn't until Zayn was gently shaking him awake that Liam even realized he'd nodded off, and he blinked owlishly up at the older boy for a moment before pushing away, hands automatically coming up to rub at his eyes. They met with Zayn's on the way, and for a moment Liam fumbled, disoriented and confused and clumsy, before Zayn's thumb was rubbing at a crease on his cheek and chuckling softly. 

“Probably shouldn't have let you fall asleep on my jacket.” 

The unnatural silence of the car was what finally tore Liam's attention away from the soft slide of Zayn's thumb against his skin, and he frowned, blinking back pain from the lights of their hotel. “Where are the boys?” 

“Went ahead. I waited longer than I should have to wake you.” Zayn stretched, muscles popping before he smiled over at him. “You just looked so tired.” 

Liam still didn't have the heart to contradict him, so he just shrugged a shoulder and yawned. He meant it to be fake, just real enough to fool Zayn, but it caught him by surprise halfway through by becoming real, and his jaw clicked audibly. “Guess so.” 

“Come on.” Zayn opened the door and slid out, offering a hand back without hesitation. And Liam, though he could most certainly make it out of the car on his own power, took it just the same, their fingers slotting together perfectly when Zayn simply shut the door and tugged him off towards the hotel. 

There weren't any paparazzi lying in wait, or any fans that Liam could see, but he wouldn't bet on his ability to make out a fan from a bush at this time of night with the headache he had, so he just kept silent and trusted in Zayn's ability to get them to their rooms without the threat of being mobbed or kidnapped or mugged. 

It wasn't often that they got peace and quiet like this in public, and it saddened Liam that he considered public to be a gated hotel parking lot, but it was nice to just _exist_ with Zayn. It was only August, but it was unusually cold, and Liam felt chilled all over save for the places in between his fingers where Zayn's fit perfectly, their palms molded together, skin tones so different but so alike under the cover of darkness. 

“Liam?” 

It took Liam thirty seconds to realize Zayn had stopped walking, and he checked his forward motion immediately, head turning to look back at him as the strain on his arm lessened. Something special and _important_ shook loose in Liam's heart when he realized that Zayn hadn't let go of his hand, even when he was so obviously not paying attention. It was just a little thing, but it wormed itself into Liam's brain, sparking feelings he wasn't a hundred percent sure he'd had. 

And he was so caught up in _that_ realization that the next time he blinked he found himself wrapped in Zayn's leather jacket, the material tossed around his shoulders. He was too big to wear it properly, too tall, too broad, but Zayn had molded it to him and all Liam could smell when he dropped his head was Zayn's cologne and cigarette smoke worked into the warm leather. 

“You were shaking.” Zayn murmured at his ear, hand not in his, but wrapped protectively around his waist, fingertips brushing against his hip as he steered him towards the lobby. “Are you getting sick or something?” 

“Maybe.” It was a mumble, Liam sluggishly allowing Zayn to lead him. He felt too dazed to walk on his own, so he stayed curved into Zayn, each step a tiny victory as Liam pretended he didn't know what was wrong with him. He wasn't stupid. He'd hit his head pretty damn hard. He should probably have gone to see a doctor but he hated inconveniencing everyone. 

They'd worked hard and waited a long time for their well deserved night in the hotel, and Liam being taken to the hospital would most certainly throw a wrench into the entire thing. It was only a little fall. He just needed to take some aspirins and get some sleep in a real bed with as many pillows and blankets as he could find. He'd be better in the morning, and as far as the rest of the boys were concerned none of this would have ever happened. 

“ _Liam_.” 

Zayn sounded so fondly exasperated that Liam couldn't resist the urge to wrap him in a hug. So he did. He just tucked his head against his shoulder, and wrapped his arms around his waist, and breathed in the dizzying scent of Zayn's skin until Zayn was laughing in his ear and tugging lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“All right, all right.” He ran his hands up and down Liam's back, and Liam could feel the heat through the leather, making him sigh softly while Zayn's laughter died down to sweet chuckles. “You're dead on your feet, Li. Here's your door. Go in and sleep, yeah?” 

“Yeah. Should.” Liam pulled back, and every move he made felt sluggish, like he was wading through molasses, his vision blurry and his depth perception shot all to hell when he leaned into a touch that wasn't close enough and nearly stumbled over his own feet. 

Zayn's smile was a secret known only to them, and the touch of his hand on Liam's cheek sent fire down his spine, but instead of the kiss Liam was longing for, even hoping for, Zayn just ran his thumb along the slowly vanishing crease on his cheek and murmured a soft “goodnight, Liam.” 

“Goodnight, Zayn.” It was whispered, slurred, but Zayn just smiled and walked away to his own room, two doors down, and Liam had already made it into his and shut the door behind him before he took a deep breath, inhaled cologne and smoke, and realized that Zayn had never taken his jacket back. 

He felt like he was floating, lost in a dream as he pawed through his overnight bag in hopes of finding a small bottle of aspirin underneath endless boxes of bandages. It was a bit of an inside joke, to be honest. Every time someone needed a band-aid, which was often, none were to be found, and so Liam had started to carry around a box just in case. Louis had found that hilarious, and the very next time they stopped for the night, he and Harry had come back to the bus with a bag of every band-aid the store sold. 

It was a wonderful memory, but Liam didn't feel like experiencing it again, and he just pushed them all aside until his fingers curved around the hard plastic bottle and he groaned quietly as he fought with the lid and finally managed to shake three small white pills into his palm. He wasn't sure how many he needed to take, and the blurry label wasn't giving him the answers, so he just swallowed all three dry before stumbling towards the bed. 

He was dimly aware of the bottle hitting the floor, and he spared a brief thought to wonder if he'd put the lid back on, before he was hitting the pillows and sinking into the mattress, and he closed his eyes to Zayn's scent wrapped all around him and knew no more. 

*

Zayn woke to an annoyingly familiar ring tone, and he grunted in frustration, hand flying out to swat at the phone on his bedside table. It took him three tries to wrap his hand around it, and another two to answer the call, and he just closed his eyes as he dropped his head to the pillows again. “This better be important.” 

“Liam's sick.” It was Louis, voice rough with sleep and scratchy from things Zayn refused to think about. “Go take care of 'im, will ya?” 

Zayn's jaw clicked when he yawned, and he blinked uncomprehendingly at the clock on the table. “It's four in the morning, Lou.” 

“Yeah, and your boyfriend's hackin' woke me up.” 

Zayn's usual retort of 'he's not my boyfriend' was only minutely beat out by the confused “hacking?” that made Louis sigh heavily into the phone. 

“Jesus, Malik.” There was the sound of blankets rustling, and a sleepy murmur from Harry that had Lou murmuring a soft 'go back to sleep, babe' before there was the unmistakable sound of a door opening and closing with a click and Louis turned his attention back to the phone. “I hate when people are sick, you know that. If it wasn't Liam, I'd be putting Nair in your shampoo for this.” 

Zayn was still so slow in registering what was going on that Louis had already pushed his way into Liam's room by the time his brain came online, and he frowned, pushing his hair out of his face with one hand, phone clutched in the other. “Liam's sick?” 

But Louis had already hung up, and Zayn groaned quietly, pushing the blankets back so he could find his bag and the pair of pajama pants that he'd packed and never bothered changing into. 

*

To be very honest, Louis didn't mind when people were sick. He just pretended to mind because that was the sort of thing he did. He'd been there for every one of the boys at one point or another, offering water or a washcloth or a soothing back rub. He'd seen Harry in every disgusting, sick position imaginable, more than anyone else except perhaps his mother, and he still considered him the most beautiful creature he'd ever laid eyes upon. So, you know. Louis Tomlinson was kind of a pro. 

But even he was rather concerned when he found Liam in the bathroom, collapsed by the toilet, chest heaving. He looked horrible, and Louis frowned as he sank down onto a knee and placed a hand on his back. He was still wearing the clothes from earlier, and his tshirt was soaked through with sweat. “Hey, Liam. Not feeling very well?” 

When he didn't get an answer, Louis just curled his fingers at his shoulder and shook a little, trying to get Liam to look at him. Though when he did, Louis couldn't check the startled gasp that slipped free, or the way his fingers tightened on his shoulder. “Liam.” 

“I.. I don't... I don't know how I got here, Lou.” It was practically a sob. Liam's eyes were red rimmed and swollen, his lips bitten, and the pain was clear to see in every line etched on his face. “I-I don't remember.” 

Louis eyes widened a touch, but he just moved, wrapping Liam in his arms, fingers petting at his hair. “Okay, okay. Hey, it's okay. You're just tired and sick. You probably caught the flu or something. We've been traveling a lot lately and... what was that, Li?” 

Deft and agile fingers easily tipped Liam's face up, baring it to the dim light streaming in from the window, but it was enough for Louis to see how glazed and dull Liam's eyes were as he repeated himself, words slow and halting and slurred. “'m not sick.” 

“I think you are.” Louis snorted quietly, reaching for a washcloth when Liam's door opened and closed and after a moment Zayn spoke, cautiously, voice raised a little to be heard from the other room.

“Why are there twenty boxes of bandages and pills all over the floor?” 

“Beats me.” Louis called back, his fingers catching on the washcloth and tugging it closer so he could carefully wipe Liam's face clean. He didn't want to move, he felt like he was the only thing keeping the younger boy upright. “We're in here. He's denying he's sick.” 

Zayn could literally hear the eye roll in Louis' voice, and he just sidestepped the mess on the floor to walk towards the bathroom, yawning into his hand. He'd had no doubt that he was sick, especially if Louis had bothered to actually come check on him himself, but he too wasn't prepared for how miserable Liam actually looked, and he frowned, immediately dropping to a knee to press a hand to his forehead. 

“Hey babe. You don't look so good.”

Louis carefully wiped at Liam's chin before dropping the washcloth onto his lap and reaching back to flush the toilet. “He's caught the flu. Or a stomach bug.”

“I'm not sick.” Liam protested, for the second time, willing his voice to stay even and clear and failing horribly as the syllables fell from his lips haphazardly, awkward and slow while the others ignored him and tried to figure out the best plan on getting someone down to the local store for some medicine. 

“I'm not...” Exhausted from trying and with his head spinning, Liam was only catching every few words that were said around him, and it was terrifying. He was terrified that he couldn't remember getting to the bathroom, he couldn't remember Louis opening the door. He'd just suddenly appeared, and Liam was seriously regretting staying silent earlier. Three aspirin... was it three aspirin, he couldn't remember now... and a nap wasn't going to fix this. 

But he couldn't make them listen to him, couldn't even talk loud enough to get their attention with his head pounding and his ears ringing. So he did the only thing he could do. He gripped at Zayn's hand, tight enough to make him stop talking, to look him in the eyes.

And when he did, there was so much shame there that Zayn's breath caught in his throat. “Liam? What? What is it?” 

“I'm not sick.” He whispered, eyes half lidded and glazed over with pain. “I hit my head.” 

“When babe? Just now?” Zayn frowned, free hand moving to run through Liam's short hair, gently, fingers checking for cuts and bumps. And he hadn't found it yet, when he opened his mouth to speak, but as soon as the words were out his fingertips brushed against the swell at the back of his head, and his lips parted in surprise. 

Even that slight brush hurt, and Liam winced, a tiny pained whimper sliding past his lips. He couldn't shake his head, he'd get sick again, and talking wasn't an option, so Zayn said it for him. Voice quiet, restrained, giving nothing away. “When you fell during the show. Li, why didn't you say anything?” 

“What?” Louis' eyes were wide, his hand tightening at Liam's shoulder. “Oh God. I thought... you seemed fine, Liam! You said you were fine!” 

He was blaming himself, Liam didn't need to see his face to know it. It was in his tone, in the way he clutched at him. And it wasn't Louis' fault, not really. Liam should have been more careful, knowing full well that there was water all over the ramp. But he'd gone down it anyway. 

“I'm gonna... I'm gonna call an ambulance.” Louis was up and off the floor in record time, his cell phone already in his hand when he reached the bedroom. Long gone before Liam could even think to reach for him. 

The bathroom was utterly silent and still with Louis gone, Liam propped against the cabinet with Zayn at his side, one hand in his and the other lying carefully against the back of his head, centimeters from the painful, swollen bump. 

It was such a small thing, but it was causing so much pain. Liam honestly felt like his head was splitting apart, but when he moved just a little to try sitting up on his own, Zayn's fingers grazed it, and his entire world blacked out for a moment. 

He came back to himself clutching the toilet, gagging on nothing as his stomach rolled and twisted, Zayn's hand a warm weight at the base of his spine as he murmured comforting nonsense into his ear. Liam thought he even heard Harry and Niall before it was over, their voices pitched high in concern, their words as foreign to him as Zayn's, but the pulsing pain took even that away until he was left gasping for breath and shaking, his ears buzzing and his heart pounding. 

“I've got you, babe.” Zayn's voice was low and soothing, his hands gentle as he pulled Liam back away from the toilet, turning him around so he could draw him between his legs, head cushioned carefully over his heart and body curled into his. “You're all right. Lou's called you an ambulance, and Harry and Niall went down to the bus to grab you some clothes to change into.” 

Liam hated it. He hated how he'd essentially ruined what would have been a great night. A hotel. Real beds. Privacy. Whenever they had the opportunity to stay overnight somewhere they took it, and this stop had been long in coming. It was all they could talk about for weeks. Harry had even marked it on their calendar with a bright pink marker, crossing the days off excitedly every night. And now it was all gone, with no telling when they'd get another chance. 

“Ah.” Zayn's fingers curled at the back of his neck, his palm warm as he gently squeezed, relieving a tiny bit of the pressure and making Liam's eyes flutter. “None of that, Li. This isn't your fault you know.” 

Liam was fairly certain it was. And since he was still unsure about opening his mouth to talk, and Zayn seemed quite adept at reading his body language and eyes, he just did his best to stare at him until the corners of the other boy's mouth were twitching up and his fingers were playing at the hair at the base of his neck in sheepish amusement. 

“All right so maybe it is your fault for keeping quiet about it. And all this drama! I didn't know you had it in you to be honest.” Liam's amused exhale against his shirt made him smile, and for a moment Zayn closed his eyes and imagined he was curled against him for an entirely different reason. Though in light of recent circumstances, he abandoned the thought extremely quickly. “But I'm not budging on the rest of it. It was an accident Liam, you didn't mean to get hurt. And once you're better you can bat those pretty eyes at Louis and make him feel better about suggesting the water fight in the first place. Okay?” 

There were so many things Liam wanted to talk about. So many things he wanted to ask him. So many questions that all began and ended with a variation of 'you think my eyes are pretty?' that made him seem more like a lovesick twelve year old girl than the actual manly man (very manly, totally manly) that he was. And maybe that was the concussion he was 99.9998 percent sure he had, and maybe it was just because Zayn reduced him to a babbling idiot half the time, but all Liam could actually do was nod his head weakly and close his eyes and pretend most (not all, he couldn't even pretend he wanted it to be all) of the night had all been just a dream. 

*

But of course it wasn't, and Liam still had to deal with the EMTs that knew exactly who they were and varied between extremely impressed and completely unimpressed for the amount of time it took them to load him into the ambulance, with Zayn at his side, (and he would never, ever be over how such a simple little thing made him feel, or the way Zayn's tone brooked zero arguments when he said _I'm going with him_ and then simply climbed in on his own accord) and get him to the hospital where an entirely different group of people gawked and stared and whispered amongst themselves. 

It was horrible, and without Zayn there, Liam might have been in trouble. Everyone else was running behind, so they were essentially on their own, and the amount of phones Zayn slapped out of people's hands was astounding. He was going to end up in the papers for it later, a quirky column about One Direction's Bradford Bad Boy going crazy in the hospital, and Liam knew how much Zayn _hated_ that, but he couldn't bring himself to worry too much about it when he had doctors and nurses asking him all sorts of questions he couldn't answer and scheduling so many tests for him his head was spinning even more than it already had been all night. 

He wasn't _scared_... but he was scared. He'd never liked being in the hospital, and little wonder why, given his childhood. And although he was fairly certain he'd just given himself a concussion, the doctors were giving him an I.V. and checking all his vitals and he couldn't shake the little voice in the back of his head that screamed that something was wrong. He'd done it. He'd finally messed himself up. 

And once those thoughts started, he couldn't stop them. He was probably really hurt and he'd have to quit the band and the boys would feel honor bound to end One Direction without him, leading to the fans rioting and the boys being hated and _dear God_ Liam hated to think about it but what would happen to those girls who got too attached? Those girls that lived their life for every message from twitter, every leaked song and every recently released tour date? What would happen to them? 

It would be all his fault. All his fault because he'd let loose and had a little fun and now everything would fall apart and no one would ever forgive him and - 

A warm hand slipped into his, and Liam blinked up at the ceiling, eyes reduced to thin slits under the bright glare of the lights until Zayn's head came into view, his hair soft and sleep tousled, the way Liam liked it best. And some of those fears started to fade, the little voice retreating, as Liam began to notice the way his lips curved and the flecks of green in his eyes, and those adorable little freckles on his nose that always seemed to be mostly covered up by their makeup. 

Liam had half a mind to yell at their make up artists next time he saw them. 

“Hey.” 

Liam swallowed thickly, his throat raw and his lips cracked. Zayn thought he was absolutely beautiful, even under the harsh lights, and he smiled, encouragingly, when his lips moved soundlessly the first time, and finally found their voice on the second. “...hey.” 

Sitting on the edge of the bed, while the nurses milled around, readying Liam for his first scan, Zayn gave his fingers a squeeze and bent down to skim a kiss along his forehead, soft and sweet. “You're going to be all right babe. I promise.” 

Liam believed him.


End file.
